


wild things

by lady_romanov



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But just a little, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, King Jon Snow, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Queen in the North, Roleplay, Slice of Life, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26171875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_romanov/pseuds/lady_romanov
Summary: A wolf slips into the room to wake the queen from her slumber.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 182





	wild things

**Author's Note:**

> Spur of the moment fluffy smut Jonsa fic. Set in an ambiguous book or show future, whichever you like. If there's any mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them. Feedback is always appreciated :)

He arrives on silent feet, slipping into her room in the dead of night long after Winterfell has gone quiet and the children and maids are all asleep. Dressed down in black leather and rough furs, he looks nearly like the bastard of his youth, not the king he’d become. His beard is trimmed, his hair loose down around his head in inky curls she suspects he brushed out just for her - he hates the bother, but he knows how much she loves to run her fingers though his hair when they make love. He pads towards the bed, quiet as a shadow, the flickering of the lamps she’d purposely left lit illuminating his face in soft hues of orange and yellow. 

She props herself up on one elbow, letting her hair fall around her to obscure all but her face where she’s pushed the bed furs down past her breasts. “What are you doing here?” she asks, breathless with excitement, desire already pooling hot and achy between her thighs as he kneels at the edge of the bed. One of his hands comes up to grasp her calf where it lays beneath the covers.

His grey eyes dance with merriment. “I’ve come to steal you, my queen.”

“ _Steal_ me?” She breathes, eyes widening. Beneath the covers she clenches her thighs, already wet and wanting. 

“Aye,” he rumbles, grasping the bedding and yanking them off her unceremoniously, dropping them to the floor. When he catches sight of what’s hidden beneath them, she’s gratified to see the way his eyes widen, how he swallows hard and sudden. She flicks her hair over her shoulder, leaning back to arrange herself daintily against the pillows and letting him look as much as he likes.

The shift she wears was a gift from Margaery, and can barely be called such a thing; it’s sheer and gauzy, edged with fine Myrish lace at the flimsy shoulder straps, and the hemline doesn’t even reach her knees. She’d elected not to wear anything beneath it, and she knows quite well the picture she must make, all wrapped in white gauze that does nothing to hide the flush of her skin or the pink of her nipples, already hard and aching in the cool night air where they strain against the fabric, begging for touch.

Swallowing again, he moves further onto the bed and throws one knee over her legs and moves upward until he’s gently straddling her thighs and pinning her down. She moans beneath him, reaching up to grasp his shoulders. He plants his hands on either side of her face and leans down until his mouth is only a whisper away from hers. 

“My wildling,” she purrs, sliding her hand up to cup his cheek, rubbing the pad of her thumb against his scratchy stubble.

His eyes are warm. “My queen,” he says, his breath hot on her face, “so beautiful, and so eager to be stolen.”

She grins, tilting her head so their mouths brush just so, teasing. “I  _ am  _ Queen,” she agrees loftily. “Mayhaps I ought to steal _you_.” Then she pulls him down by the neck to kiss him properly, moaning as he licks into her mouth as if he’s already imagining licking her elsewhere. When she nudges at him, he rolls over easily, grasping her by the hips to pull her with him until she’s the one straddling him, her knees hugging his hips. Like this, she can grind down against him, and the feel of his leathers against her bare, wet flesh makes her shudder. He catches her mouth again, kissing her over and over and panting as she rocks her hips against the bulge of his hard cock. 

He slips his hands beneath her shift, his fingertips tracing a blazing trail from her thighs all the way up to her shoulders as he bunches up her shift in his hands. They have to stop kissing so he can tug it off of her completely, and she raises her arms to help him, eager for more of his touch against her bare skin. Her shift joins the bed covers on the floor, and his hands settle on her hips as he leans back and gazes at her, his eyes dark with want. “Gods, Sansa,” he groans, abandoning their game, raising up to kiss and mouth at her breasts.

“Jon,” she moans as he takes one of her nipples in his hot mouth, rubbing the hard peak against the roof of his mouth and making her sigh with pleasure and grasp his head, holding it against her teats. He licks and sucks at her tender skin, trading kisses between her nipples until they’re both red and throbbing and his stubble has marked her pale skin red. When she grinds her cunt against his leathers he shudders beneath her, his fingers digging into her skin where he’s holding her by the hips; she’s been marked by so many men in her life, but Jon is the only one her body craves, the only man she’s proud to carry the bruises from. “Jon,” she says again, just to feel him groan against her skin at the sound of his name in her mouth.

Her chest is slick with his spit by the time he returns his mouth to hers, biting gently at her kiss-swollen lips and sucking on her tongue. Her blood pulses hot and heavy, and she reaches down between their bodies to tug ineffectively at the laces of his trousers. “C’mon,” she mumbles into his mouth, nearly whining, and he chuckles before moving to help her free his cock. When it finally springs free of his leathers, she wraps one hand around him, stroking, and he gasps. 

“ _Sansa_ _ ,”  _ he gasps, eyes bright, his cock leaking drops of white fluid onto her fingers. When she raises her hand and licks it off, he whimpers and tugs her closer until she’s positioned right over his cock, her tender nipples rubbing against the hard leathers that cover his chest.

She sighs when she sinks onto him, slowly, reveling in the stretch, his girth the sweetest burn as he fills her up until she feels him all the way in her throat. She moves, rocking her hips, and when he plants his feet flat on the bed and starts fucking up into her with hard, focused thrusts she swears, placing her hands on his chest for leverage as she picks up her pace. Every thrust sends lightning up her spine, and soon enough she’s seeing stars, her thighs quaking as she rides him as hard as she can. “Jon,” she pants, “Jon, Jon, Jon,  _ Jon. _ ”

“That’s it, lovely girl,” Jon says in a rough voice, sliding one hand towards the place where they’re joined to pinch and rub at her pearl, and she cries out as her pleasure sharpens even further. “Gods, Sans, you’re so beautiful like this, riding me, taking your pleasure. _Fuck_ , I want to feel you come on my cock, sweetling, can you do that? Can you come for me?” With every word he rolls her pearl between his fingers with practiced motion, punctuating each sentence by flicking at her.

She breaks apart with a sob, her hips stuttering as she clenches around him in waves, sweat dripping into her eyes and blinding her as Jon coaxes her through it with tiny thrusts and one hand working between her legs relentlessly. When she comes down, she slumps forward against him, gasping against his shoulder as his leathers dig into her cheek. His cock is still hard inside of her, and he only gives her a few moments to recover before he’s rocking his hips again, and she whines. She tries to roll her hips, to make it good for him, but her thighs are still trembling and her body no longer wants to cooperate.

He pants into her hair. “Sansa,” he murmurs, “Sweetling, can I?”

She knows what he wants, and the thought of it makes her throb around him keenly. “Yes _.  _ _Yes_.”

He rolls them over a second time, his cock slipping out of her briefly as he moves to settle her on her back. He grasps one of her knees and bends it, splaying her open obscenely wide before rolling his hips and splitting her open once more. They both cry out as he starts to fuck her in earnest.

“ _Jon_ ,” she chokes out, heat gathering in her belly again. “Jon, Jon, oh oh _oh_ __._ ” _

His mouth is relentless as he sucks bruises along her neck and collarbones, ones she knows she’ll be unable to hide come morning, and she turns her head in search of his lips. She peaks a second time when he slides his tongue into her mouth at the same time he thrusts into her, hard, and he chants her name as he follows quickly after. They both lay there panting for several long moments until they catch their breath, his weight heavy and perfect atop her as she pets her hands through his soft curls.

He pulls out of her only to start kissing down her body, ghosting his mouth across her belly and nosing at her mound. She yelps when he licks into her, writhing against him, and says, “ _Jon!_ Oh, I can’t, I _can’t_ ,” and his mouth is gentle but relentless as he licks her clean of his seed, hitching her legs over his shoulders and burying his tongue as far inside of her as he can as she shakes and sobs, and he manages to make her peak twice more before she can’t bare his mouth any longer and pushes him away, still shaking and pulsing as her blood roars in her ears.

He curls up against her back, kissing along her shoulders and nosing at her sweaty hair. “My queen,” he murmurs, his tongue tracing one of her scars.

She shifts in his grasp, tangling her hands in his hair as she kisses him, her own taste filling her mouth. “My king,” she whispers back, smiling lazily against him.

It’s a very good evening, but then it always is, with Jon. 


End file.
